I loosen my grip, because caring deeply about the work does not mean every part of it must pass through my own hands,
I loosen my grip, noticing how easily I turn responsibility into ownership of every tiny decision until the work becomes heavier,
I loosen my grip, allowing another person’s skill into the places where my attention belongs elsewhere, even when part of me still wants to control,
I loosen my grip, can I trust someone else with a part of what I have made without feeling that the finished piece becomes less mine,
I loosen my grip, surrendering the work and now the work gives me room to breathe…
I choose where my hands belong, staying close to the parts that require my eye while learning which parts do not need my presence,
I choose where my hands belong, because there are things I can execute well and admitting that it has required more honesty than I expected,
I choose where my hands belong, directing my energy toward the decisions only I can make instead of proving I can carry everything alone,
I choose where my hands belong, what part of this work truly needs me to what am I holding simply because I am afraid to let it leave my hands freely,
I choose where my hands belong, I freely accept my attention becomes more valuable when I stop scattering it everywhere…
I let the work become bigger than me, accepting that collaboration can change its texture without taking away the reason why I began it,
I let the work become bigger than me, trusting another person’s skill to meet my intention rather than loosing with it all,
I let the work become bigger than me, because sometimes the most caring thing I can do for an idea is stop insisting I must perform every part of its becoming,
I let the work become bigger than me, can I receive someone else’s contribution without secretly needing to prove I could have done it myself,
I let the work become bigger than me, and I begin to see that authorship still has room for other set of hands…
I return to what is mine, not every task or detail, but the feeling I am trying to protect underneath all the decisions,
I return to what is mine, the filter I have developed through experience, the instinct that something belongs when it has suppressed the noise,
I return to what is mine, trusting that craft is not measured by how much labor I personally accumulate but by how honestly I guided the work toward what I imagined it to become,
I return to what is mine, when I look at the finished piece, will I still feel my voice there even if someone else helped carry it into its full form,
I return to what is mine, and the work feels lighter without becoming less deeply cared for, and I begin to understand that I can hold something with devotion without making its weight my burden…
Watchwords:
Caring deeply does not mean doing everything
Where my hands actually belong
Another person can bring skill
Authorship can still hold other hands
As the work feels lighter, I don’t need to carry all the weight
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: